


Every Victory, A sacrifice

by Thepresidentofrussia23



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Bad Spelling & Grammar, Character Bleed, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gun Violence, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad Ending, Self-Reflection, The Author Regrets Everything, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Wakes & Funerals, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thepresidentofrussia23/pseuds/Thepresidentofrussia23
Summary: Death is not the ending of life. But rather the beginning of a new one.





	1. Silent Tomb

The rotors of the helicopter were whipping the air, its searchlight piercing the dark night sky, illuminating the circular spot where the light was aimed at, the helicopters circled around the wreckage of a grey concrete building, its debris sticking out like the ribs of a dead beast, like vultures around a dead animal. 

The red and blue lights washed over the windows and walls of the Hoover building as wounded agents were led away from the bulding and SWAT agents were brought in, not only them, but Navy S.E.A.L.S could be brought in for the rescue of two high profile hostages. Unit Chief Robert Shepherd and Special Field Agent Holden Ford. 

These two men had a relationship that had been strained and they had been at odds with each other since the transcription incident that triggered the internal probe. That tension was thick in the air as the two men tried every way they could to escape. They were too high to jump, they would break their necks, the vents were too narrow to squeeze through. 

Holden cursed as he looked around as Shepherd rummaged through files and papers as he tried to hunt for a way out of this room, out of this place. Holden shook his head, resigned as he sighed

"There seems to be no way out of here. I'm sorry."

"You of all people think there is no way out of here? You have got to be kidding me! There is a way out! I...I just have to find that way out." 

Holden snapped 

"You have been searching the same doors and windows for an exit where there is none to be found Shepherd! You of all people know this bulding better than we do."

"And it's all being taken away just like that!"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean that the Office of Professional Conduct has been forcing me to resign! You could have averted this mess you know!"

"I had to get Speck talking, I had to speak his language."

"Language? Are you fucking kidding me? Referring to the victims as 'Ripe cunts' as 'easy pickings' as 'hot pieces of ass'? Is this how we are supposed to do this? Tell me Holden, what do you know about these scumbags?" 

"By bulding rapport sir, we can connect to them and they can give us invaluable insights and knowledge to the mindset of the next perp out there waiting to strike. We could be doing so much more with what we have right now."

"No! Just no! We are not supposed to be doing that! We only investigate the crime! Not the individual! We are not the thought police Holden! Tell me why again did you join the FBI?"

"I joined cause..."

"Don't give me the scripted answer. Be honest. Straightforward. Like I'm your friend."

"Right. A friend. Okay...I joined the FBI becuase...my mom...my dad...they...they would do unspeakable things to me. My mom started by sleeping in my bed, no harm no foul...right? She then started kissing me...full on the lips...it soon escalated to full on rape a few months later, I wasn't safe from my father either, he made me touch his...penis and it was hard...he raped me day after day until my ass bled and sitting felt like as though I was sitting on knives. It didn't end until I was seventeen. It was embarrassing, it was hurtful, it was painful."

Shepherd's eyes were wide with horror and disgust as he choked out 

"Good...god. Holden, I am so sorry. I should've known about this. I...I should know better. When you were gasping for air at the party that was you..."

"Me having a panic attack."

Shepherd by this time sat next to Holden. Personally he hated this...he was disgusted as to how a parent could betray the trust of a child. He remembered how his son sweetly looked up at him as if he were larger than life. Shepherd could see his son and Holdens' face merging and melding, he quickly wiped away a tear. Shepherd opened up

"I remember when I was in West Berlin, I was investigating rapes that had occurred during the aftermath of the war's chaos you know? Many of the victors, French, British, Soviet and American soldiers included, raped women and girls across the nations we liberated...and then we claim we gave them freedom. What the hell kind of freedom is it to trade one dictator for another? One trauma for another? It didn't make sense to me. I learned a very, very hard lesson through my years of investigations, that it is never ever the victim's fault. Ever. And we never ever degrade them, ever."

"I'm sorry Shepherd. I...I didn't know why you felt so angry about the tapes. Now...I understand why you feel that way. I understand that you could feel that I was becoming no better than the people I was trying to stop...you were warning me, Hell, Bill was warning me that my attitude was gonna bite me in the ass. You all knew and saw and tried to stop me. It was my fault."

"Look. We all make mistakes. Sometimes we don't listen to warnings. Sometimes we have to experience consequences for ourselves. I can't blame you. You're young and a trailblazer. Not a lot of people are like that. I am proud of you Holden. I see hundreds of agents each day and very few have your earnestness and willingness to work so hard. Many just punch in at six and punch out at five and go home. You don't do that and I now...understand why." 

Suddenly the captor opened the door, fired three shots into Holden's abdomen and fired a shot into the chain that held a light fixture and it smashed onto Shepherd's head and the graying man crumpled onto the floor unconcious as the captor slammed the door shut and roared into a phone:

"If you don't comply with my demands, both agents will die, mark my words."


	2. Blood Drops

Holden was gasping for air...the oxygen seemed to hang just before his lips as they lost its color, he was screaming and screaming his lungs off, there was nothing Holden could think of, or focus on except the pain. The pain that burned through his nerves like acid, like poison. Time dissolved into a nothingness as he cried out in pain. The simple action of breathing is an action that we all take for granted, we forget that we are composed of Oxygen, Carbon, Sulfur, Water and Nitrogen. It's interesting really, we forget what composes us until we are trapped with our thoughts.

Holdens' screams and cries eventually woke up Shepherd, who had been unconscious and bleeding after the lamp smashed straight on top of his head, his head was bleeding and his grey hair was caked and matted with drying red blood all over his forehead. He blinked slowly as his fuzzy vision eventually slid into focus as he blinked carefully and looked around, left and right. His awareness slid back to him in stages as he could hear the heartbreaking cries of agony and pain, he could smell an all too familiar tangy, iron scent of blood. The screams and groans assaulted his ears and assailed whatever fortress-like walls he had placed over his heart and he hobbled up, standing weakly like a drunk, his vision doubling and his head spinning.

Shepherd could feel vomit building up in his throat as he stumbled over to the wounded agent who lay on his side, the warm sticky blood puddling around Holden. Shepherd rolled the young man onto his back and pulled off his own suit jacket and suddenly...he froze...it was all deja-vu to him, Holden was just like that wounded soldier, that brother-in-arms, in battle as they struggled to survive World War II. He could see that Holden was wounded but would live if given the proper medical treatment, but Shepherd was no medic, much less a surgeon, he was a former FBI agent himself but he didn't know how to treat physical injuries like gun shot wounds and the amount of blood on the ground...it was so fucking sickening. It was as simple as that. 

Holden whimpered like a child struggling through a fever and it tugged at the older man's heartstrings and he wadded up his Armani suit jacket, $10,000 dollars be damned, he had to do something, anything to save the dying, wheezing young man next to him. Shepherd hated Holdens' guts and was constantly trying to tighten that young man's leash whenever he could, but that didn't mean he wanted Holden dead, he would never wish such a horrendous thing to someone as kind and as brave as Holden. Holden croaked out 

"I'm cold....I'm so cold...its so cold in here. Turn off the A/C."

Shepherd looked up and saw the temperature dial was at 70 F and the thermometer mercury level was at 76 F. The room was warm enough for the older man to start sweating through his dress whites. He was perplexed as to why would Holden feel so cold when it was so warm when it suddenly dawned on him that Holden was heading into shock. The younger man's eyes were starting to slide closed when Shepherd gently tapped his cheeks and sharply reprimanded him 

"Hey! Wake up you...pussy! Yes! Keep your eyes open! Help will be here soon."

He was trying to be as much of a nag and annoyance as possible to keep Holden awake, he knew that if Holden fell asleep, that young man may sleep and never wake up again and that was a thought that frightened him so much. 

Holden slurred

"I wanna sleep...please...just one minute."

"No Holden! Not on the job! Remember? No napping on the job or you will have no job when you wake up!"

"I...I wanna...I wanna close my eyes...just for a second...pretty please."

"Absolutely not!"

"Fuck you."

"You may hate me for this but this is for your own good!"

"Whatever do you know? You were the one who transferred me to Road School remember?"

"And sometimes redirection can mean an inadvertent promotion. You might wanna think of it that way. If I had never sent you to Road School, you would not have come up with the wonderful idea of profiling criminals."

"Really? You think it was a good idea."

"I think it was the most amazing idea I had ever heard from anybody. The fact that Bill was able to sell the idea to me...it was a miracle that this grew to be so successful. Holden, tell me what do you like to do in your freetime."

"I usually never get free time, but when I do, I like to read books and catch up on psychology journals and watch television and listen to the radio."

"You ever like any music"

"Led Zepplin."

"Yep. The new generation is taking over and replacing us one by one. What a coup."

"Don't worry Shepherd. Soon we will be like you, like old zombies and bitching about the..." he started coughing blood and it sounded wet. That was never a good sign as Shepherd applied more pressure and cursed in German and French as he pressed harder on the wounds. Holden winced and whimpered and his breathing tightened as his panic began to envelop him. Shepherd cursed and released some of the pressure as the younger man gasped for air, whimpering that he was dying.

"No...NO! Holden! You are NOT dying! You hear me? You and I are gonna get outta this alive...we will...we will have a ass lick party, plenty of beer and...trophies for you...you have to stay awake for that to happen. You have to stay awake or else...I'll have to hire someone else in your place and I can't do that right now."

"Ugh...fuck those parties...argh... it...it hurts."

"Sorry...I have to...its for your own good ok?" 

"Right."

And the two men waited as the clock ticked and the blood dripped despite Shepherd's frantic efforts and the breathing was slowing down.


	3. The cries of misery

Shepherd's heart was pounding...beating...he could feel his ears roar with the blood rushing to his head so fast, he vomited his coffee and donut that he had eaten for breakfast. He retched several times as he could feel the bile and acid burn up his esophagus and tounge. He wanted to rest so badly, his head was pounding, his faculties were completely compromised. Holden whimpered in pain...It was so damn heartbreaking to hear him groan in pain like that. Holden was in a lot of pain, his chances of survival were slowly trickling away like the sand draining through an hourglass. Holden hissed before groaning

"Shepherd?"

"What?"

"Why did you join?"

"Me? I was just a an idealist. I hoped to change the world. Little did I know at the age of twenty three, the world would end up changing me instead. I ended up in Germany as a GI, a army soldier, I saw many friends of mine bleed out, get blown to pieces or outright simply disappear and for many of them, concentration camps were their final destination. Belive me, I had a few Jewish friends...they were captured and...gassed. There was nothing left of them. All there was left was their remains. That was all there was left of the Jews we found in...so many camps. Bergen Belsen, Auschwitz, you name it, the camps were there for one purpose only and that was death. What I saw in these camps was beyond any man's imagination. Hitler had designed death on a industrial scale that nobody had seen before or since. The fact is, the guards, the Nazis, all em? They would make the Grim Reaper damn jealous for sure. I saw naked bodies of women, men, children, elderly people, babies even!"

By this time Shepherd slammed his fist onto a table in fury, his memories of how he found all those dead corpses, they burned his soul, they ripped away a veil of innocence that he had. He shuddered slightly as Holden gaped at him with a mysticism about him. Shepherd painfully looked up at the grey, stark ceiling as he added

"I never adjusted to civilian life. I couldn't hold down a fucking job! I had my own battle fatigue to deal with and not to mention the fact that every little damn noise set me off the edge. Even sometimes a certain smell would take me back to those camps. Ugh, the smell of death, it's something I'll never get over. I don't think I ever will."

"Post traumatic stress disorder is common among veterans like you. It's nothing to be ashamed of after all. You need to talk to a professional."

"The last time I spoke to a fucking head shrink, they suggested that I should be admitted as a inpatient! Fuck them and fuck their ideas! If they really cared...they would listen to me. You were the only one with a background in psychology that has even bothered to listen to me as opposed to judging me."

"Its what I do sir."

"Don't call me that...just...don't. Not after how much...we have shared."

"What happened to you afterwards?"

"Afterwards, I went to college thanks to the GI bill, I got my bachelor's degree in criminology and met my wife there, she was in medical school at the time, I remember seeing her for the first time and my god... she stole my heart."

"Just like...how...my ex girlfriend did. I used to love her so much...but now, I just resent myself for falling for...agh... fuck...it...it hurts..."

"We all make mistakes son. The difference is whether we learn from them or not. Holden? Are you ok? Holden? GUYS! HOLDEN ISN'T LOOKING TOO PRETTY! HE MIGHT NOT LAST LONG! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT"

Holdens' lungs sounded like they were wheezing and crackling, as if his rib was rubbing against his lung, or had punctured it and now his lung was collapsing. Holden's lips were purple looking and his breathing was shallow and rapid. His pulse was thready and weak and that made Shepherd gape in horror as he felt his own head throb with a nasty headache, his head was aching so badly, like the one time a Nazi slammed the butt of a gun into his head and fell over unconscious. The graying old man retched again as he saw more blood pouring through Holden's wounds. There was only so much blood in the human body, only 1.5 gallons of blood to be exact and Holden was reaching his limit as to how long he could remain conscious and he was so dizzy...so tired that even the amount of talking, nagging, begging and yelling would do him no good, he was too tired to fight and so was Shepherd, their minds slipped off into a oblivion that only one would make it out of.

Bill Tench had been waiting outside the HQ for nine hours now, his co worker and boss were held hostage and he had been wounded from the explosion, his tibia was fractured and was set in a cast and he sat in a quiet shock, in tears as he stared blankly as the sirens echoed off the grey, drab walls of concrete...that all too resembled a tomb, a sarcophagus. Bill wouldn't admit it but Holden had managed to make his way into Bill's heart and now Holden was like a son to him. Bill couldn't imagine his life without him. The day they met for Road School, Holden yammered his mouth off so much, it grated on his nerves, the recklessness in interviews with serial killers, it terrified him so much, he warned Holden that it would bring him down in the end. It was only after the panic attack that Bill was proven correct.

Bill wrung his hands and decided to light a cigar and puffed away as the nicotine eased off the edge of his worries.


	4. Brave souls and deep graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the views and kudos. Means so much to me. Ideas and comments are certainly welcome. It's not like I banned them or whatever.

Shepherd opened his eyes groggily, his vision was still blurry. A saw making a loud whirring and hissing sound, cutting through concrete and wood as gunshots resounded in the distance. He could hear an ATF agent shout

"Hang on you two! Help is nearly there!"

His limbs felt like bags of rocks and his head felt like someone was slamming a sledgehammer onto his skull, the sharp, sterile light felt like pins and needles against his eyes as he tried to regain focus and balance, he tried to lift his head and look up, some of the lightbulbs on a lamp were beginning to flicker on and off intermittently, he could hear a low humming of the electricity. Shepherd was trying to gain bearings on his situation as he wiped some of the dried, crusty, browned blood off of his forehead and face as he tilted his head to the left and blinked slowly. Holden was still slumped over, his eyes closed peacefully, as if he were asleep. 

Shepherd weakly pawed at his vest, his hand coordination was very poor, his hand felt as though they had gloves on them as he peeled off his sweat soaked garment and crawled over to Holden. He was worried that Holden was sleeping for far too long, the injury by now probably was too severe for medical attention or treatment. He croaked out

"Holden? Hey...Holden...wake your ass up."

His throat felt as though someone had stuffed sandpaper down his throat, or on one of those days when he wakes up and he has the sudden urge to brush his teeth and use his mouthwash becuase of the gross feeling in his mouth. Holden remained still and unresponsive. Shepherd was annoyed but was beginning to become worried as he barked out

"Holden! Wake the fuck up! Help is getting here!"

After a few moments of no response, Shepherd crawled over, across the glass, not caring whether or not the glass cut into his pants and knees and hands or not. He reached over and firmly shook Holden, but the younger agent still remained asleep and unconscious. He could feel his heart clench when Holden's head lolled to the side like a marionette doll falling on itself when the strings are cut, he could feel a swell of emotion that he had tried to suppress all these years, all these times and all these moments. He swallowed carefully and placed his forefinger on Holden's carotid artery and the skin was cool to the touch, there was no pulse. 

Shepherd let out a sob he didn't know he had been holding down this entire time. He could feel tears stream down his cheeks as he sobbed some more and suddenly, he broke down crying, crying becuase he once again failed to save a human being, he once again watched someone die and he was helpless. Shepherd wished with all his might that he had been the one who had died in the place of Holden Ford, but it didn't happen, all he could do was stare at the blank ceiling above him as the angry, accusing thoughts haunted him, swallowed him alive. 

At that moment, the agents breached through the wall and the cinder blocks crumbled forth as the dust poured from the wreckage, giving off an eerie effect as they swept the area for threats and one of the agents reached for Holden and Shepherd croaked out wistfully

"He's...he's gone...he's gone." 

And Shepherd burst into tears and vomited again as they checked the pulse and Shepherd unwadded the jacket from Holden's wound and draped it over his lifeless face. He couldn't handle seeing the once lively, talkative agent so still...so quiet...never to open his eyes again or chatter or...breathe...or even get a chance to find love. The agents placed Holden in a body bag and strapped it down on a stretcher and they hauled it away as Robert hugged his knees and sobbed. He slowly got up and felt his knees and legs tingle as he had sat on them and they had fallen asleep and he was escorted out...he was dizzy and seeing double as the bright lights from the headlights of the vehicle and the cameras focused on him, reporters tried to crowd around him but Ted Gunn hollered at them to fuck off and get lost before he sued their organizations to non existence. Bill and Wendy stood up immediately, they ran over, broke through the lines and they yelled at Robert 

"HEY! WHERE IS HOLDEN? IS HE OK?"

"No...he's...he's gone..."

Wendy's eyes widened in horror as she watched the perp get walked away in handcuffs and the body of her co worker...her friend...was hauled away as she ran over...she burst into tears as she sobbed and she slumped over his body.

Gregg Smith felt his knees cave in on him as his oxygen fled his lungs, he couldn't belive that the man who hated him...was dead...and he felt nothing but grief and sadness. He cried softly as the body was lifted into the Coroner's van and driven away.

Bill Tench was so angry that he had to be sedated for his own good and of that of the perpetrator. Shepherd knew that Bill was protective of those he cared about and they knew that he would not be able to regulate his temper and Robert did not blame Bill for that at all. What happened to Holden was something he did not deserve at all. He did not deserve his life to be cut short so soon. Not like this. Shepherd vomited and fell to his knees so the paramedic insisted on him getting to a hospital. 

Wendy couldn't belive that the perpetrator would be going to a holding cell alive and breathing while Holden would be lying naked under a white sheet, being autopsied and prepped for his funeral. She drove home and she poured herself a huge glass of wine when she heard the mewing again...she hadn't seen the cat in a while, and when she found it near her washer and dryer, she picked up the cat and hugged its soft fur and murmured

"Oh Holden...we will miss you...that's such a good name for this cat...Holden...yes. Your name will be Holden."


	5. The black hole

Shepherd opened his eyes and squinted against the bright and harsh hospital lights as they pierced into his irises like needles, he could feel a sudden panic bubbling in his chest, a memory threatening to overtake him, overcome him altogether as he could remember broken jagged edges of a suppressed memory from a war, long ago that still would haunt his mind and his subconscious forever.

He was gasping for air, the fragments of voices overlapping each other...oh it was terrifying so terrifying. So this was what it was like to feel like Death was approaching, to feel like one's breath was being forcefully ripped from the body, so this was what it was like to have a overwhelming sense of panic to crush him...to eat him alive. 

"Oh sit...oh God! He's having a panic attack! Get the nurse! His heart rate is extremely elevated! He needs to relax! Oh...fuck!"

The nurse ran over and sedated the screaming, weeping, grey haired man as he tried to thrash around and Robert screamed

"Holden! Oh! Holden I'm so sorry! Holden! Where are you? What's going on? Where the fuck am I l?"

The doctor checked his pulse as Robert's wife, Rita Shepherd sat by her husband's side...she held his hand and gazed sadly at his bandaged head and sleeping face and she grasped his calloused hand and whispered a prayer of peace, healing and thanksgiving for her husband returning to her. She had found out last night that and agent had died and she had been reverently pursuing agents, harassing several doctors and nurses before she found out that her husband was getting stitches on his head and was resting up in a room and was quite incoherent, but safe and alive and that was all she could ever want. Her heart silently broke for the family of the agent who had passed away. She whispered another prayer for the dead agent as well, to grant him rest and peace and forgiveness for his sins. She wept and shuddered as she kissed Robert's hands and waited for him to open his green eyes and look at her with the affection that he always had for her and her only. 

Bill Tench woke up in his bed, he turned over and imagined, just imagined that the man that he loved, was still alive and breathing, he clung onto Holden's pillow and inhaled the cheap cologne smell of the fabric and savored it all in as he remembered that night that they had made love, rhythmically and with passion and love that was unmatched and with a pulsing strength that they never had apart from each other. Tench could feel tears streaming down his face as he curled up in a fetal position, he dreaded getting up and making preparations for Holden's funeral, he dreaded the burial as well and he hated how that young man died before he even got a chance to hold hands with Bill and come out to Wendy and the rest of the BSU. 

Bill slowly climbed out of bed and lit another cigarette and dressed for the day as field agents gathered evidence against the suspect and they bagged and tagged everything as Bill walked past them and walked up to Ted Gunn, who was in charge of the investigation for the murder of Holden Ford and he asked Ted

"I would like to request a return to the field. I want to be out there doing something as opposed to drinking my face off at home and getting wasted in the nearby dive bar."

"You do realize that I have given you and your team a week off to gather yourselves together and to prepare for the next round of interviews. You need someone as a replacement for Holden. As sad as to say it is true, we all move on. The world has already moved on. Have you? Oh and by the way? Where is your professionalism?"

"The fact that I haven't yet reported you to the Office of Professional Conduct would say a lot about my fucking professionalism."

"All right, just...stick to paperwork, no interviewing the perp until after the trial. With our luck, it might even be a lengthy trial that might even take it to Virginia, a death penalty state."

"I would want nothing more than for her to fry on the chair for what she did to Holden and Shepherd. Shepherd had a fucking panic attack when he woke up and Holden is in the mourge..."

"I'm very sorry for your loss. We all are. Please accept my condolences."

"I will."

Bill left after they bid their farewells and they went their seperate ways and Bill drove his car to the mourge, his breath was caught in his throat as he was sitting in his car, he stared at the grey and brown brick bulding which was nondescript against the dull white cinderblocks and he pulled open the glass door and sat down in the main lobby which remained empty, the walls were yellowed and the paint was peeling as the coroner came over, wearing a white lab coat and scrubs as well as a green apron and blue hair cover and a clear plastic face shield and he led Bill to the body which lay under a white sheet, naked and cold on a steel table. 

Holden's personal effects including his badge, his keys, a tube of chapstick and breath mints as well as his wallet lay on the countertop in seperate evidence bags, clearly marked and labeled, along with Shepherd's jacket which had Holden's blood on it and Holden's clothing, including his undershirt and his boxers and shoes as well. 

Bill's fingers trembled and shook as he pulled the sheet down and he sobbed, he quietly cried tears of heartbreak as he stared at Holden's face as he saw how peaceful he looked when his eyes were closed. Tench noticed how pale he looked under the harsh surgical grade lights and he looked up and asked the coroner to leave and he kissed Holden's forehead and choked out

"Why did you have to leave? Why like this? I...I didn't want you to leave me! And now you're...you've left me all alone! I'm all alone!"


	6. The sky weeps

Bill Tench stood up and wiped his tears and followed the solemn coroner. The man then sat behind his desk and handed over the autopsy results and explained the diagrams but it all was white noise in Tench's head, it all sounded like this

"...gun shot wounds....heavy hemorrhaging.....torn vessels...homicide...."

Tench just barely nodded, absorbed in a memory when he was back on the plane after Holden's panic attack

"From now on, it's my rules.When I tell you shut your mouth, you shut your mouth. Nod if you understand."

Bill tried to not let out a single emotion right now, the last thing he needed to do right now was to burst into tears. The coroner handed him a list of funeral homes and cemeteries in the Quantico area and a bunch of pamphlets on how to deal with loss and grief as well as a business card. The coroner was crisp and professional and it hurt to be treated this way but Bill didn't care...he didn't care about his heart, he just wanted Holden back of all things, even if it meant he had to be called a queer all his entire life. He would take all the insults on his own shoulders.

Bill pulled out another cigar and started smoking again, the cigarettes were the only source of comfort he had right now during such a horrible time, he inhaled the poisonous fumes and exhaled as the clouds of cigarette smoke wafted into the air and gave the room a acrid stench. Bill croaked out

"I'm gonna go with the McMurphy Funeral home."

"I'm glad that he has a friend like you to take care of him during these difficult circumstances. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you to deal with all of the emotional decisions."

"You have no idea how much I cared for Holden. He was someone I would have died for. Except he died for me, and for his country, this damn corrupt country that couldn't even care less about federal agents like him dying on the streets every day."

Bill spat out the last part as he quickly added

"Sorry...it's just been a very long and tiring day and it's already just 1:30 P.M. I...I must have been down here for longer than I thought."

"Bereavement is a process that takes time for everyone. It is unique to everyone as well. You will need to take time to process this grief and this loss in order to heal and to move past the pain in order to turn the pain into a driving force for something positive."

"I'm warning you right now, the way you are going right now; your attitude is going to bite you right in the ass."

Bill couldn't belive himself for thinking like this but he missed Holden's chattering presence as he drove to the new headquarters of the FBI building, which was much more secure and one could hear agents practicing at the target range, gunshots echoed by as he walked in and he slammed the button and carried in his things and paperwork and drove right in to listening to the tapes and transcribing them as quickly as he could, he was fixated on doing more, to dive deeper and deeper, the memorial unveiling ceremony would be tomorrow and the funeral and wake would be next week. Bill dreaded seeing Holden's photo being hung on the memorial wall, it would solidify the reality that Holden was never going to come back, never wake up, or have a arrogant, snark filled remark, none of those things would ever happen again. 

Holden's desk was still filled with his things, nobody had the heart to clear them out and Bill would make sure that nobody would touch them either, the phone rang but nobody picked it up, all Wendy could do was burst into tears and choke out a sobbing

"Oh Holden...just stop ringing! Stop ringing! Stop it!"

Bill hugged her and let her cry on his shoulder all she needed to and she whispered 

"We failed him so many times...he needed us so many times and we let him drown...it's all our fault! My God! What kind of agents are we?"

Bill could only answer

"Holden wouldn't blame us at all. He wouldn't have let us notice that he was going through a rough time. Shepherd didn't even know that he had a panic attack at the party until he picked up some valium pills scattered near his car."

Wendy added

"How are you holding up with all that's going on? You are not invincible. You need to rise up for air yourself too. You look like you haven't slept since Holden died, you smell like cigars and whiskey and you have dark circles under your eyes and your posture is slumped, clearly indicating fatigue."

Bill rolled his eyes and stared at the desk where Holden once sat...it would forever remain empty, and his papers and things would forever remain untouched, just like that, a silent memorial to a man who dedicated his life for humanity and for the service of others. 

Bill slammed the door to his office, grabbed the postcards that Kemper sent him and tore them all up in a fury and cried, he hated Kemper and suddenly, he noticed another card, despite everything, he peeled open the card. It was a sympathy card and inside was written

"Dear Bill Tench,

I heard that Holden Ford had passed away last night and it broke my heart that I lost a good friend that day. My heart is truly devastated that an eloquent person with many talents and a articulate mind has been stolen from this world before his time. My condolences are with you and the entire BSU during this difficult time. I would love for you to come over and have a chat with me in Vacaville.

Sincerely,

Edmund Kemper."

Bill folded that card up and taped it up near his door frame, he wiped his tears and sighed as he began the process of healing and moving on and preparing for the funeral.


	7. In Memoriam

Bill woke up, the sky was overcast and he brushed away some tears, waking up screaming and crying out for Holden over and over in his sleep as he fitfully thrashed around in the bed that held so many memories, many of them were filled with a sort of beauty that nobody would ever understand. Tench rolled out of bed as he grabbed his best suit and shirt and shoes and lay them in the bathroom and then turned on the hot water to the point that he could feel his skin scald and burn under the hot water as it steamed in the crisp, chilly air above him. Bill then grabbed his clothes and dressed in a robotic manner, he couldn't care...not anymore since Holden had died all alone except for Shepherd by his side. He knew he shouldn't blame the now-retired director, but he couldn't help but feel that it was that man's fault that they were attacked by the terrorist in the first place, he shook off the dark, invasive thoughts and dressed and tied his tie, a memory filtering though his mind of Holden and him dressing and getting ready for work.

"Hey, Holden? Can you help me with my tie?"

"Yes sure, it sure gives me a chance to have a better view of your handsome face."

"Ooo now you sound like the big bad wolf right there! Be careful!"

"Maybe I do wanna lure you in, cause you already lured me in your house."

"Look who's talking Holden?"

"Haha very funny!"

Their laughter seemed so beautiful, it all faded away as Bill shook his head free from that ordinary memory and he tied his tie and clipped on the blue badge and grabbed his lunch tote and went to work via his car. He drove the car, imagining Holden yammering his nonsensical mouth off about the next perp that was on the loose or about the statistics in another scientific journal. Bill was not a religious man at heart but he sure hoped Holden was in Heaven and was in a better place, free from pain and from the misery that this pathetic planet had. Bill grabbed his suitcase and bag and crushed the "Down" button on the elevator and went down to the basement. He was dreading the unveiling ceremony of the memorial photo of Holden Ford and that would strip away the denial that he had been holding in his heart that this was all a horrendous nightmare, that Holden would shake him awake and they would kiss each other and they would talk about the nightmare and then laugh about it. The telephone on Holden's desk rang again and Wendy looked up, her eyes were red and puffy and rimmed with tears, her throat was swollen from crying and howling, she couldn't sleep at all last night and her eyes clearly indicated to that.

Gregg Smith was frozen at his desk, still staring at the tape recorder that Holden used to carry around and interview criminals with, he couldn't bear to touch, to contaminate that relic of Holden, it was that same tape recorder with which Holden had tested him by forcing him to listen to Brudos's tapes as well as Kemper's tapes. He remembered that day when he listened to how the killers graphically described how they killed their victims and how they dismembered the bodies and in some cases, committed necrophilia on the dead bodies. Kemper was especially unabashed in describing how he beheaded his mother and raped her head after she had died. Gregg swore that if any new agent wanted to ever join the Behavioral Science Unit, they would have to be tested and be shown the ropes in a much different way than he was shown the ropes. Smith had seen firsthand how the daily work schedule and the interviews had affected Holden and it broke him deep inside that Holden was pushing him away especially for turning in Speck's tape to the board. 

Soon everyone was gathered around the black shrouded portrait of Holden Ford, Ted Gunn and Robert Shepherd pulled the veil off and there was a soft applause as they gathered around the photograph to celebrate the life of a man who had dedicated his entire life towards a better and brighter future for the FBI and for the United States of America and its citizens. Bill was managing to hold in his tears when he saw the photo, it was Holden's official headshot picture but Holden had managed to make it his own with a small inquisitive smile and with a pure, innocent gaze that could capture your eyes and melt your heart. The plaque below it was inscribed 

"In memoriam to Holden Ford, Co Founder of the Behavioral Science Unit."

Soon everyone was gone and their thoughts had drifted away and forgot about the dead human being and his contributions, Bill Tench felt like he couldn't move, he was rooted there, staring into those eyes, wondering what Holden would have been like as a recruit, as a college student, as a kid. Those questions would forever remain unanswered in his mind, Tench looked left and right and made sure nobody was looking before he kissed the photograph and wept his heart out for the first time in a long time, he had been holding in his feelings, his hurt and his heartbreak and now, the dam had finally broken through and the wave of tears was flowing through and Dr. Carr hid behind a corner, weeping quietly. The remaining survivors had a long way to go before they would ever begin to even try and heal their broken hearts. The clouds unleashed their tears and the rain clouds started raining and raining all over the place as the group tried to figure out a way to remain sane and strong in the face of adversity. Robert himself was dealing with PTSD and survivor's guilt over the horrendous incident, he regretted the harsh words he yelled out, he regretted the bad treatment he gave Holden, he regretted ever hurting Holden like that, if he ever knew that Holden would die in a terrible act of violence like that, he would have never done or said any of those godawful things that he said to Holden before he passed away. 


End file.
